After-hours Lament
by Kal Lenin
Summary: Our familiar digi-friends get into another one of those discussions about life's greatest mystery...


After-hours Lament

Wargreymon sighed. He looked sadly into his glass and drained the remaining contents. Signaling the bartender to refill his glass, he said, "You know, Weregarurumon, we need to get out more."

Weregarurumon grunted his assent, cradling his own glass in his hands.

"The honeys just don't dig us anymore."

Weregarurumon let out a low bass chuckle. "As if they ever did?"

Wargreymon looked plaintively at him. "I thought they did."

"Well you're kidding yourself." He drained the rest of his glass and refilled it from the pitcher at the center of the table.

"Hey all." Zudamon came rambling to the table and plopped himself down on a seat. Weregarurumon slid him a mug of the sharp ale. He immediately snatched this up and took a long draught. "Hard day?" Wargreymon asked idly.

"Hmmm, I'll say so," Zudamon commented. He stroked his mustache. "The work just don't pay off like it used to."

The other two grunted in assent.

Simultaneously, the three of them sighed and drank from their glasses. Zudamon looked from Weregarurumon to Wargreymon. "Ya still ain't bitter about the lasses, are ya?"

"Don't mention it," Wargreymon grumbled.

Zudamon chuckled, causing Wargreymon to look up aggressively. "And you're having better luck?" Wargreymon asked him.

"Aye, mayhap it's so." He continued to chuckle.

"And what's your little secret then," Wargreymon inquired.

"Hmmm?"

"What's your secret then."

"Ah, ah, ah. I follow." He leaned in close. "Do you really want to know?"

The other two leaned in close, nodding. Weregarurumon was smiling with amusement.

"The lasses, eh," he started. "They likes the mustache."

Weregarurumon leaned back and howled with laughter. Wargreymon turned slightly red and looked miffed.

"No, I means it so," Zudamon continued with a straight face. "It's about the facial hair ya know. It's a…well, how ya say…masculine."

"Now that's a tall tale if I ever heard one," Weregarurumon accused, swallowing a large swig of his ale and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Hey, you'd be surprised, kids," he asserted. "You'd be surprised." He leaned back in his chair and continued to stroke his mustache.

"Ahoy there!"

Angemon walked up to the table, grabbed a chair, flipped it around, and sat in it, leaning forward onto the backrest. As he did this, Weregarurumon commented, "Now there's a looker if I'd ever saw one."

Angemon punched him on the shoulder as he chuckled. Weregarurumon began to pour him some ale, but Angemon signaled him to stop. "Ah, ah! Not today, my friends. Today, we'll have something special." He signaled to the bartender. "Bartender! Triple scotch! On the rocks!"

The other occupants of the table made hums and moans of interests. "Ah, look whose the player now," Zudamon commented.

When the bartender brought the drink, Angemon thanked him and raised his glass. "A toast to that wonderful miracle, life." The others commented, "Here, here." Everyone but Wargreymon joined the toast and drank heartily. Wargreymon was busy sulking.

"And what's with the long face over yonder?" Angemon joked.

Wargreymon said nothing, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Aw, you're not jealous are you?"

Wargreymon shifted position, turning away.

Angemon laughed heartily. "Eh, buddy. You'll get your time to shine. I promise."

"Easy to say when the girls flock to your feathers."

The others made a series of winces and oohs, looking at Angemon for a response. Angemon remained unruffled. "Well, girls will be girls."

Wargreymon stood up suddenly, but Weregarurumon already had his hand on his shoulder and forced him back to his seat. "Down there, Goliath."

Wargreymon clenched his fists, but then went back to sulking.

"Did I miss something?" Kabuterimon wandered over to their table and sat down. He glanced once at Wargreymon and looked at the others. "Aw, he's not complaining about the girls again, is he?"

"Bull's-eye," Weregarurumon answered as he passed Kabuterimon a glass.

"Now listen here, buddy," Kabuterimon began, pausing for a drink. "Look at me. The girls scream in horror when they see me. Do I complain? No! Of course not! It all comes with the job. You have to learn to cope there, boy."

"Stop treating me like I'm some adolescent!" Wargreymon retorted. "I can handle things myself!"

"Ah, so that's the issue now, is it?" Zudamon commented, with a hint of amusement in his voice. "The little laddie here feels he ain't a man yet, eh?"

"No! That's not it!"

"Then what is it?" the others pressed.

Wargreymon made no answer.

The others laughed, slapping the table and each other. "Ah, don't take it so hard there, lad," Zudamon said. "We're all just having a laugh. Come on. Here's on us."

He signaled to the bartender, who brought over a glass of heavy vodka. Wargreymon didn't move. He was staring at the wall. "Come on now," Zudamon taunted. "You know you want it."

Wargreymon at first didn't respond. Then he shifted uncomfortably. Finally, unable to give in, he reached for the glass.

Zudamon pulled it away at the last minute. "Ah ah ah! You'll be a good lad?"

Wargreymon rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, yeah."

"Good there, chap!" He handed him the glass, which Wargreymon started on immediately. "You just hang around us here for a few days, and we'll have you in working shape in no time! Why, you'll be the toast of town!"

"The big mon on campus!" Angemon added.

"A real player, eh?" Weregarurumon added.

"Come now," Zudamon said, rising to his feet unsteadily. "Let us go out and get our quarry, then!"

The clan rose with a series of aye's, grunts, and howls. They staggered out of the bar, leaning on each other's shoulders and singing one of their old-time favorite songs horrendously off key.

Afterword

Wargreymon sat on a large, flat slab of stone, his elbows on his knees and his chin rested in his hands. A keg sat in the grass with its top off—it was half empty. Tai came over and attempted to climb the stone. Wargreymon helped him up. The two sat silently next to each other. Finally, Wargreymon inquired, "Rough day?"

"Yup," Tai answered.

"Sora isn't it?"

"Right again."

Silence.

"You know, Wargreymon," Tai began, "what do women want? Do you have any idea?"

"Nope. Not a clue."

"Surely you've…"

"I said I don't know."

Silence.

"I see you've had a rough day too," Tai commented.

Wargreymon grunted. "Yeah."

"It's the…"

"Yeah."

"Hmmm."

"Hmmm."

Silence.

Wargreymon raised the keg to his lips and took a long draught. "You want some?"

"No thanks. I'm too young."

"Suits yourself." Wargreymon took another long sip.

"You know, you're too young too."

Wargreymon set down the keg and grunted in surprise. He pulled his head back and regarded Tai strangely.

"Sure. You know it. I mean, you can't be more than, what, seven years old? Sure you look big, but if we're talking strictly about years, you're younger than I am."

"You forget, time goes faster in the digital world."

"Hmmm. Never thought about that."

"And that makes me certainly above the age of twenty-one."

"Yeah. I guess." He paused. "I mean you don't act…" Tai stopped when Wargreymon gave him a harsh look.

Wargreymon took another swig.

"Remember, no de-digivolving."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. You'll probably die. Don't forget, you'll get a lot smaller, and then you'll be practically all alcohol."

"Oh yeah."

"Plus, your hangover will be ten times worse."

"Uggh."

The two sighed simultaneously, each making the exact identical pose—head rested in hands and arms propped up on knees.

All alone, the keg sat on the grass and sighed.


End file.
